


Dream a Little Dream of Me

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Banter, Books, Dreams, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Humor, Light-Hearted, M/M, Original Mythology, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Kirk receives a vaccine from McCoy he begins having strange dreams, each of which brings him a little closer to his First Officer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream a Little Dream of Me

"Dammit, Jim! I'm a doctor not a sprinter! Hold still!"

Jim had no intention of doing any such thing. Dodging Nurse Meyers and vaulting a gurney, he glanced around franticly for any means of escape. Snagging a vial as he ran past, he eventually slid to a stop at the end of the Med Bay, strategically putting a few bio-beds between him and his CMO. More importantly, there were now a few bio-beds between him and that ridiculously long hypo McCoy was wielding.

"Jim." McCoy stopped too, banishing the hypo like one of Sulu's swords. "Stop being such a god damn infant! Everyone in the landing party is getting the vaccine… even if I have to hog tie them to give it!"

The threat wasn't exactly subtle, but Jim was undeterred. Holding up his prize he quickly unscrewed the lid of the vial. "Don't even think about it Bones. One step closer – just one! – and you'll get a face full of…" He looked at the label. "Simbi.. simbi…simbi-what what?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Simbichloroene kid. And yes, I'm terrified of birth control."

"Birth control?" Taking a closer look at the milky jell-like substance, Jim couldn't help but pull a face. "Seriously? That's what girls are sticking up their pussies now-a-days?"

"Captain, for what purpose would the female members of the crew wish to insert Simbichloroene into an adolescent Felis?"

"SPOCK!"

Throwing the vial on the nearest bed Jim made a dive for his First Officer just as he stepped through the door. He was successful. A second later he was happily protected behind Spock's lanky frame. Skinny he may be, but those Vulcan limbs were built like brick walls. That is, if brick walls were sentient and overly protective of their captains. McCoy didn't stand a chance.

Chancing a peek around his Vulcan fortress, Jim encountered a pair of chocolate eyes looking down at him in genuine, if somewhat confused, amusement. Jim couldn't understand why people thought Vulcans didn't smile; they just did it with their eyes instead of their mouths. And that soft one Spock was giving him seemed to be reserved for Jim alone.

He grinned up at those eyes. "Hi, Spock."

"Greetings, Captain." Spock said. He paused a moment as if lost in thought. "You have not yet answered my question."

"Uh…" Jim edged closer against Spock's back as McCoy stalked forward. Even in his moment of peril some part of him couldn't help noticing how warm Spock was. Even through the three layers of shirts his back radiated a strong yet gentle heat. "What question was that again?"

"Why would a female wish to insert Simbichloroene into a young Felis?"

"Weeelll…." Jim looked back up at him, flashing his best megawatt smile. "If I tell you will you protect me?"

"Jim. I will always protect you." There was that smile again… "and," Spock continued, "that includes making sure you receive the proper vaccines before we beam down."

"Wha-?"

Without further ado Spock hefted his captain up and over his shoulder.

"Spock!" Jim squawked. "Put me down!"

"I do not believe that would be conducive towards you receiving your vaccines, Captain." He said. "Doctor? If you would do the honors?"

"Gladly hobgoblin." With a spring in his step and a grin that would send most Klingon warriors crying for their mommies, McCoy jabbed the extra long hypo into Jim's neck.

"OW! For fuck's sake Bones that hurt!" Rubbing his neck Jim glared at his CMO. However, he realized that while manhandled like a sack of potatoes by his subordinate he looked about as terrifying as a tribble. "That really, really hurt."

McCoy smirked. "I know."

"Asshole."

"Seriously Jim, this vaccine is important." McCoy dropped the humor and instead decided to wag a finger under Jim's nose. Jim weighed the pros and cons of biting it. "The Tilonians are pretty advanced but their medical knowledge isn't worth shit. They've got a strain of disease down there similar to Malaria from 21st century Earth, and the last thing this ship needs is its captain contracting another dangerous and potentially fatal virus."

"Yeah, yeah." Jim said. "It still hurt."

McCoy snorted. "Whatever. Get the hell out of my Sickbay." Without so much as a 'good day' McCoy wandered off, muttering something about baby captains.

Still rubbing at his sore neck Jim wasn't exactly sorry to see him go. He'd plot his revenge later. First however…

"Hey, Spock?" he said.

"Yes, Captain?"

"You can put me down now."

"Ah, yes… Of course, Captain."

For a moment the world tilted and then Jim found himself firmly back on his feet. The blood seemed to be rushing to his head rather fast but otherwise he was none the worse for wear. He glanced up in time to see what could have been a green blush fading from the Vulcan's cheeks.

"You do realize," Jim said, oddly hypnotized by the diminishing emerald color. "that you'll be paying dearly for that?"

One eyebrow crept its way up Spock's brow. "Really, Captain. You should not threaten those who are only looking out for your best interests."

"I've got an interest in your slow and painful death." Crossing his arms Jim straightened up and adopted his best 'captain face.' He couldn't let something as simple as a Vulcan blush distract him now. "I'm not some maiden you can scoop up and throw across your noble steed, mister. Don't," he poked a finger at Spock's chest. "try that again."

That damned eyebrow still hadn't moved. "As you say, Captain."

Why did he get the sense that Spock was patronizing him?

Probably because he was.

With a huff Jim marched towards the exit. He had almost made it when Bones's call rang out.

"Jim!"

Jim stopped but didn't completely turn around. He was ready to make a dash for the door if necessary.

"…yeah, Bones?" He said.

"I forgot to tell you. The vaccine? It shouldn't have many side effects but some of the crew has been reporting strange dreams after they got it. I Just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Got it, Bones. Thanks." With a glace back Jim saw Spock still loitering in the middle of Sickbay. He stood tall and at ease but with just the slightest tension marring his frame. Eyes locked, he waited patiently for his captain to give some sign that his company was desired. No doubt, despite the playful banter, Spock was concerned that he'd overstepped himself in manhandling his captain.

It wouldn't do to have his friend worrying. It also wouldn't do to tell him just how much he'd enjoyed it.

No need for his Science Officer to know just how desperate his captain was for any touch from those hot, regal hands.

"Come on, Spock," Jim threw him a smile and Spock scooped it from the air like he was a dog and Jim's smile the sought after bone.

"Let's go mind the store."

***

James walked the dirt path with no mirth and no destination in mind. He looked to his right, then his left, and saw nothing but the endless expanse of Time. He had walked this path, alone and unguarded for lifetimes. He would walk this path for lifetimes more.

However, centuries later, James saw something in the distance. Not a building. No, a man, walking towards him and dressed in a simple, loose robe. At first James envied the man for his attire for he was clad in more garments than he could bear. A high collared tunic, under that a long sleeved blouse, over both a rawhide vest. He wore stockings and leggings, and tight drawstring pants. Gloves crowded his hands like mothers cuddle their children. His feet wore socks, his socks wore shoes, and even his head was adorned with a scarf that flowed down his back, enveloping him with its weighted touch.

James felt as if he were burning from within.

After centuries more James met the traveler on the path and found that he was a strange man indeed. His hair, longer than any other hair James had seen before, flowed directly into the earth and seemed to continually grow as the man moved forward. His ears were pointed, stretching towards the sky, and his skin was a peculiar olive color.

Then again, James could hardly be the judge of what was peculiar. He had never seen a reflection of his face and the rest of his body was covered. James knew not what color his skin was. It could very well be as green as this man's.

When they were finally upon one another each allowed himself a rest. Wordlessly, they settled together on the ground and for the first time in all of Time James looked up at the night sky.

"It is customary," the man said "to bestow some small gift upon meeting a stranger. A gesture of the giver's wish that the receiver live a long life and prosper throughout that lifetime."

James immediately thought of the heat that scorched him.

"Can you gift me with water?" He asked.

"I cannot." The man said. "I am not a creature born of any aqueous material and thus am unable to possess such a thing and I am unable to give to you what I do not already possess."

"Ah." James said, and left it at that.

For a long time they lay there, looking up at the darkness overhead. Except, as any being knows, it was not completely dark: James found himself entranced with the stars. How he knew their names he could not say, but each one brightened for James the moment his eyes settled on one as opposed to another. Despite the heat already within him, he allowed himself to soak in each star's light. It was, after all, freely given.

"I can however, gift you with a story." The man said.

"A story?" James asked. "What kind of a story?"

"A very old one." The man replied. "One much older than even you, who have often traveled the path of Time, can understand."

For a moment James felt himself bristling. Who was this man to judge the path that James had walked?

"And what use," he spat, "is such an old story to me?"

The man shrugged and his long hair rippled. The wave flowed down the tresses and burrowed deep into the earth. Somehow James knew that the small shock would grow beneath the soil until somewhere, centuries away, the whole earth would tremble and quake.

"That," the man answered "is for you to decide. Will you hear my story?"

James took but a moment. "Yes."

"Very well then." The man settled himself more firmly on the ground, allowing long limbs to stretch until he was almost – almost – touching James.

"Let us begin.

"In the beginning, if such a thing can truly be said to exist, the Sun and the Sky were one being. Were you to look up from the Earth, you would fail to see the blue of the Day or the black of the Night, for they had yet to exist. Only the Sun, bright and gold, was visible overhead.

"Sun was a social being by nature, a loving and warm creation, and he greatly desired a companion with whom he could share himself. However, none yet existed. All of his future friends, the animals and man, had yet to come into being. For ages the Sun lived alone, watching the Earth and the cosmos around him for any signs of life.

"One day – who can truly say when? – Sun began to lose his patience. He was a loving creature, yes, but one with a quick will and an even quicker temper. He could no longer stand by and watch as Time passed without someone to share it with. So, in his frustration and his anger, Sun began to lash out upon the Earth. He hurled huge spheres of fire against the planet until the ground was scorched and the water had run dry. And when his fury finally passed Sun looked upon the Earth in sadness, for his temper had caused him to be reckless and now no life could form here.

"However, all was not lost. A short time later, Sun became aware of a stone that had met with his fire. Though instead of turning black and crumbling like the others, this stone had turned a deep fiery red – almost the color of Sun himself. And when he looked closer, peering through the rock to the center within, Sun could see the beginnings of life.

"Overjoyed at the miracle, Sun took up the stone and embraced it as one would a child. He cared for it always, allowing the creature inside to develop and grow. Gone was Sun's impatience for now he had someone to whom he could give himself.

"Time passed and eons later the stone began to crack, allowing what was inside to finally come forth. Sun watched in awe as a beautiful Bird emerged. Tall and regal, the Bird's body was as black as coal and his feathers shimmered through a hundred shades of green. Everything about the Bird spoke of confidence and independence – even arrogance to a degree. But Sun knew all of this was just a façade. He could see in Bird's eyes that he loved him, and for that Sun was overjoyed.

"As Time continued on, Sun and Bird became the best of friends. Despite their palpable differences they cared for one another greatly and quickly became the envy of even Time himself.

"However, things were still not perfect. Shortly after his birth, Bird realized that he could no longer dwell within Sun as he had when he'd been inside his stone. Sun was simply too hot. The closer Bird came, the more he was singed, until all of his feathers would turn molten and flutter back towards the Earth. Bird wanted to come closer but Sun's heat and his light were overpowering.

"Sun noticed Bird's difficulty and experienced sadness once again. He hated that he inadvertently caused Bird physical pain, but he hated more that they could no longer be as one. Sun desired – as he knew Bird desired – to once again occupy the same space at the same time. To be as close as two beings could possibly be.

"Sun knew what he wanted, what they both wanted, but he also knew that Bird would never agree with his decision. So one day, while Bird was resting, Sun drew all of himself inwards, pulling and pulling until he forced himself to shatter. Sun exploded across the cosmos, scattering himself across time and space. And when Bird awoke, it was to the knowledge that Sun and Sky were no longer one being. Instead, Sky now took up much of creation and Sun was sprinkled across him as stars. Now there were millions and millions of Suns, instead of the one large one Bird had known.

"At first Bird was furious. 'How dare you do this' he cried. 'How dare you diminish yourself for me?' But Sun quieted his anger and soothed his fears. He explained to Bird that it was well worth it. By scattering himself and lessening his own warmth and light, Bird was now able to come closer. They could again be One.

"Up in the newly born Sky an infinite number of Suns smiled at Bird, waiting to see if he would accept his gift."

The man stopped, glanced once at James, and then looked back up at the heavens.

"Well," James demanded, "what did Bird say? Did he accept Sun's sacrifice?"

Rising to his feet the man brushed off his robes, seemingly unconcerned with James's frustration.

"I do not know." He said.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Jumping to his feet as well, James crowded the man. "What kind of a story is that?"

"An old one." The man replied.

"Psh. A stupid one is more like it." James stepped back, suddenly aware once again of how hot he was, burning from within. "Stupid story doesn't even have an ending."

"That," the man said, as he began walking away, his magnificent long hair trailing behind him. "is because the ending has yet to occur."

***

With a jolt Jim awoke within the guest quarters of the King's palace, located in the capital city of the Tilonian homeworld.

After taking a few moments to collect himself, Jim recalled the warning about the vaccine causing strange dreams. 'That's what it was.' He thought. 'Nothing but Bones's meds wreaking havoc with my psyche.'

But Jim spent the rest of the night unable to sleep. Tossing and turning, he found he was always too warm, his body feeling as if it were alight with fire.

Jim ignored his dream. He blamed the sensation on a malfunction in the heating system.

"Well, if it isn't sleeping beauty." McCoy sat with Spock at the breakfast table, elaborately embellished for the Federation guests. "I was half expecting you to sleep through the negotiations."

"Hardly, Bones." Settling in next to Spock Jim helped himself to something that vaguely resembled bacon. As he reached for the platter he tried to ignore that there were only a few centimeters separating his and his First Officer's arm. "I just didn't get the best sleep last night is all."

He knew without looking that Spock's gaze had sharpened on him. "Captain? Are you well?"

"Quite." Jim smiled. Forced at first, but then he felt it strengthen as he looked towards Spock. "Weird ass dreams though."

"Ah. I warned you about that kid." McCoy shoved his spoon in Jim's direction. "Dream anything interesting? Like Spock developing a sense of humor? Now that would be fascinating."

"Really, Doctor, you should learn to be more specific. If I were to develop such an illogical trait I would prefer to excel in it. I would not, for example, want to develop your dismal idea of what is 'funny.'

"Now look here, hobgoblin, at least I can crack a joke. You on the other hand would need lines of code written into that damn super computer you call a brain."

"Indeed, Doctor. My cerebrum's composition is quite similar to that of an advanced electronic processor. I thank you for the compliment."

"That wasn't a compliment you green-blooded-"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Jim leaned forward, trying to get their attention. The action brought him just a bit closer to Spock and he breathed in the scent of spice and desert rain. "I did dream something interesting, and I'd tell you about it if you two hot heads would let me get a word in edge wise."

McCoy rolled his eyes and settled back in his chair. "All right then. Tell us all about your dreams, O' Great One."

Ignoring McCoy Jim turned all his attention to Spock. "Do Vulcans have myths, Spock? You know, fairy tales and the like?"

"But of course, Captain." One eyebrow went up in response to McCoy's dubious expression. "Written fables and folk tales were quite popular in the days before Surak."

"Huh." Jim said. "That's interesting, cause I dreamed that you told me this myth last night."

"Indeed?" Both men seemed interested now.

"Yeah. It was all about the sun and this bird. The bird was born from the Sun's fire on Earth and grew up to be his best friend. Only he couldn't get near him cause, you know, he's the sun. So Sun… I don't know, imploded himself or something. He burst into a thousand pieces, creating all the stars in the sky. And the bird was so angry. He shouted that the sun shouldn't have diminished himself, bird thought he wasn't worth it."

Jim stopped, suddenly realizing that neither of his friends were saying anything.

"What?" He asked.

"Good god man." McCoy gave an undignified snort. "You think up some weird shit. Birds and suns and stars." He shook his head.

Spock however was giving him a peculiar look.

"Spock? Do Vulcans have a myth like that?"

"Negative, Jim." He took a moment to fold his napkin, pushing his plate away. "However, I find it exceedingly interesting that you would dream in such a symbolic and detailed manner." He cocked his head, looking like some sort of inquisitive cat. "You say I told this tale to you?"

"Yeah. Only…" Jim trailed off a moment, thinking about the strange Spock in his dream.

"Only what?" McCoy asked.

Jim shrugged. "Only you were different. I didn't know your name and you were wearing this grey robe. Oh yeah," he cracked a grin, immediately lightening the mood. "and you had this crazy hair."

Spock's other eyebrow leapt to join its brother. "Fascinating."

After that the topic was dropped, and the three began discussing how to best get the Tilonians to hand over their impressive weapon systems to the Federation and not the Klingon Empire.

It wasn't until breakfast was wrapping up that McCoy leaned forward, giving Spock an exaggerated once-over.

"So Spock… ever thought of letting your hair grow out?"

The ensuing debate gave Jim an excuse to touch his First Officer's hair, and he couldn't have been more pleased with the start of the day.

***

Jimmy raced across the sand, the dunes in his peripheral vision continually rising up and then falling back, passing him as quickly as he passed them. He kept a relentless pace, with his knees up high and his heels kicking out. It was too dangerous to stop in this part of the desert for long. Stop and the sand was likely to suck you down.

Running, running, running… Jimmy could only hope that he came to the tomb soon. Already his short-sleeved safari shirt and khaki pants were sticking to him with sweat. Despite his attempts to stay hydrated Jimmy knew he wouldn't last much longer. The heat was astounding.

On and on he ran until suddenly, amidst the feeling of the desert pulling at his boots, there was a brief 'clack!' sound. Not daring to look back Jimmy continued on… until he heard it again. And again. Clack, clack, clack. Yes, he could feel it now too. The brief respite as his heeled boot connected with something solid. Something like stone.

And stone meant civilization.

Soon enough it was looming before him, the pillar that marked the entrance to the ancient tomb. Over a thousand feet high, the pillar beckoned him closer, down into its endless, circling depths.

It was there that he'd find the Book of Restoration.

Soon there was enough stone beneath his feet to rest. Grabbing his flask off his hip Jimmy took a long drink and tried to regain his breath. The water did him no good though. The sun beat down on him methodically, mercilessly, making his head pound to the same, endless rhythm.

Looking ahead, Jimmy spotted the steps at the base of the pillar, the ones that lead down into the earth.

There was no time to lose.

As fast as he could Jimmy covered the last hundred yards or so. When he came to the steps he barely glanced at the intricate writings on the pillar. Instead, tearing off his backpack, he located his torch, lit it, and without any hesitation plunged into the tomb's depths.

All his life Jimmy had ignored the boys with muscled chests and the girls with swinging hips for his one true love: books. Those who didn't know him called him crazy, and those who did called him a fool. But if there was one thing Jimmy appreciated above all else it was the written word. Stories allowed you to go anywhere, do anything, be anyone, and Jimmy's books allowed him to experience it all. The only book he had yet to read – the only thing he had yet to gain – was the Book of Restoration.

It was a bibliophiles dream: A book that continually made itself anew. A thousand lifetimes of libraries contained in one volume. It was said that the book catered to whoever possessed it. That it would continually create stories designed specifically to please its owner. One man could open that book for eternity and always find something new.

Jimmy had to have it.

By now he was deep within the tomb and still Jimmy pressed onwards. Flying past corridors filled with gold, laces, and jewels he ignored it all. He didn't stop, he didn't rest, and for a while Jimmy was afraid he might faint. The halls of the massive tomb, far from cooling him, only made him feel more afire. Those walls seemed to be closing in on him, outpouring heat all the while.

It wasn't until later, when Jimmy finally made it to the central hall that he was forced to stop.

He wasn't alone.

There, standing before him was a man of alien appearance. He was tall and lean, his limbs almost gangly in their length. He wore shirt, boots, and pants similar to Jimmy's but that was where the similarities ended.

This man had a devil's face: stern expression, upswept brows, and a pair of pointed ears to match. Even his skin was that of a monster's, a greenish shade that contrasted greatly with Jimmy's own golden hue. He stood there, legs apart and hands clasped loosely behind his back. He seemed perfectly at ease in the heat, as if he had spent time in the bowels of hell itself. It would have taken quite a bit of creativity to make this man any more intimidating.

… And yet, Jimmy felt no hostility from this stranger. Far from it, he felt drawn to him in some way. Almost as if he'd known him in another time. Another place…

Jimmy didn't have time to dwell on this.

"It would seem," the stranger said "that we are both after the same artifact."

Jimmy kept silent, not yet willing to help this stranger but not disagreeing either.

The stranger nodded as if he'd been expecting that. "It is quite fortunate for us both that we sought the same object in the same period of time. I have quickly come to realize that the Book of Restoration cannot be claimed by a single man."

As he stepped aside Jimmy finally took into consideration what was behind the stranger. There against the far wall was the door that would lead to the room containing the Book. However, Jimmy quickly realized why this Devil man couldn't open it on his own.

On either side of the door was a lever, close together, but just far enough apart that one person couldn't pull them both simultaneously. Things were complicated by the fact that surrounding each lever was a carefully dug pit. Walking over Jimmy took a quick peak down the one on the right. It showed nothing promising. Even with his torch he couldn't see how far down it went.

Looking at this set up Jimmy realized what had to be done. Each pit was too wide for a person to lean across. Regardless of what side he started on a man would surely lose his balance and topple before reaching the lever. However, the pits were just slim enough that someone could potentially grab the lever if he had something to balance against.

Jimmy looked at the stranger. "We need to use each other to counter balance one another."

"Affirmative." The man seemed completely unfazed by all this. "If we link our inside hands together and each stand before one of the pits, we should be able to balance one another long enough to grab the levers simultaneously – thus opening the door." Here he paused, suddenly looking uncertain. "It is a test that requires both knowledge of another being and… a great deal of trust."

Jimmy couldn't say why but he knew before the stranger finished speaking that he trusted him. It was a foolish belief, dangerous even, but Jimmy wasn't willing to ignore it. Besides, without the help of another, getting that book was a no win scenario.

And Jimmy didn't believe in no win scenarios.

Without a word he stepped up to the lever on the right and watched as the stranger did the same on his left. Toeing the edge of the pit, Jimmy raised his left arm until it was straight out to his side.

A moment later a hot hand enveloped his, and the shock of it nearly sent Jimmy tumbling over the edge.

It wasn't the heat of the stranger's hand that startled him – though that in itself was noticeable – but it was the fact that Jimmy's hand had suddenly become cool. The oppressive heat that had weighed upon him ever since he entered the desert had lifted somewhat. Almost as if his heat and the heat of this stranger cancelled each other out.

Jimmy couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so comfortable.

Ignoring this newfound sensation for the moment, both Jimmy and his companion started leaning forward in unspoken agreement. Further and further their bodies tilted, perfectly balanced as they pressed firmly against each other's hands. It seemed like the easiest thing in the world when Jimmy's right hand grasped the lever and he pulled it down with a solid 'click' – perfectly timed with the stranger's own pull on his left.

Once again, perfectly in synch, they eased back from the edge.

And through the door they flew.

There, sitting atop an altar was the Book of Restoration. The cover alone was breathtaking. A beautiful solid black, the corners, edges, and spine were adorned with the most intricate designs Jimmy had ever seen. Each loop, swirl, and dip was engraved wonderfully in ivory against the black. And despite the age of the book, true to its name and function, it looked brand new.

Without so much as a word the stranger marched up to the altar and carefully took the book down with the most gentle of gestures.

He then turned and presented the book to Jimmy.

For a brief moment as their fingers touched, Jimmy again experienced that blessed coolness. A balm to counter the heat. Then he came to his senses.

"What? I can't just take-" But the stranger, though truly a stranger no longer, merely shook his head. He pressed the book into Jimmy's hands and his eyes lighted in what could only be a smile.

He then turned and started walking back, leaving Jimmy with the treasure he thought he'd wanted.

But suddenly it wasn't enough.

"Wait!" he called, and his companion paused. Suddenly, with his back to him, Jimmy wasn't sure what to say. Finally, softly: "… what's your name?"

His companion didn't answer. He settled a moment, took a deep breath, and continued up towards the surface.

On a whim Jimmy opened the book and there, written in beautiful calligraphy were the words:

"I am Spock"

***

Jim awoke in the same way he had the night before.

Trembling, he forced himself out of the large, canopied bed. When they had first arrived on the Tilonian planet Jim had been against the excessive luxuries they were offered. He had simply seen no need for the landing party to be treated like royalty, especially when he was trying to foster equality between this new race and the Federation. Now however, Jim couldn't have been more thankful for the overly large suite.

It gave him more room to pace as he tried to get the sensation of holding Spock's hand out of his mind.

"Hey, Spock! Wait up!" Jim ran to catch his First Officer and smiled at the befuddled expression that was slowly crossing his face.

"Captain, your statement is highly illogical." He said.

"Oh yeah?" They continued walking, Spock automatically altering his stride to match his captain's. "How so?"

"I understand that you wish for me to wait for you, that much is obvious, however, the question arises of where you wish for me to wait. Your use of the word 'up' suggests that you want me to wait in the air, yet that is not possible without some form of antigravity device, which you can easily see I do not possess. Then again, perhaps you meant that you wanted me to wait further up the corridor, if that were the case then…"

Seeing that he had succeeded in making his human laugh, Spock stopped. There was, after all, no reason to continue such an illogical conversation when the desired result had already been obtained.

"Spock," Jim laughed, "It's just an expression. My god, even I don't understand all my species' ridiculous sayings – and I'm human!"

Spock merely inclined his head, accepting that explanation, and the two officers continued on their way.

The landing party had split up for the day, with each crewman visiting the area of the city that coincided best with their interests. Spock had spent most of the morning 'being nerdy,' as Jim called it, with the science personnel and Bones had headed off to the local hospital in the hopes of creating something out of this mess the Tilonians called a health care system. Jim spent his time overseeing it all, keeping tabs on each department and continually looking out for his crew. With all that had to get done in the short time they had on planet, Jim hadn't expected to run into Spock for lunch.

It was an incredibly welcome surprise.

"You know…" Jim started "I had another dream last night."

"Indeed, Captain?" Spock tilted his head just slightly to the right, letting Jim know that despite his gaze being forward, he had Spock's full attention.

"Yeah… it was as crazy as the first one!" Jim laughed and it came out sounding more strained than he'd have liked.

"Did I participate in your dream again, Captain?" For a moment Jim thought he heard more than simple curiosity in that question, almost as if Spock wanted to be featured in his dreams.

And then Jim got his head out of the clouds.

"Uh yeah… you did." And that came out more serious than Jim had wanted. He seemed to be digging himself in deep today.

His humorless tone caught Spock's attention though, and he stopped to face Jim fully.

"Captain?" He questioned.

Giving a laid back smile Jim did his best to shrug it off. "Like I said Spock, as crazy as the first one." He continued walking, after a moment Spock followed. "We were like… I don't know, tomb raiders or something. We each ended up in the same catacomb, after the same piece of treasure, and we eventually worked together to get it. Cause, you know, we're awesome like that!"

Watching carefully Jim could see a slight twitch in Spock's mouth: the beginnings of a smile.

"Affirmative, Captain. We are, indeed, awesome."

Jim's laughter could be heard down the hall.

"However, Captain, may I inquire something?"

"Of course, Spock." Jim said.

"What treasure did we want so desperately to obtain?" He asked.

"Oh, it was some book. I remember it was really beautiful; a black cover with ivory piping along the edges. You gave it to me in the end."

Jim went to gift Spock with another smile, just as he'd been gifted the book in his dream, only to find that Spock had stopped dead in the hallway.

"Spock?" He asked.

Marching up to his captain Spock stood at attention, all playfulness gone from his face.

"Captain, permission to speak freely?"

"I'd welcome it Mr. Spock." The sudden switch to formality had Jim thrown for a bit of a loop.

"Have you, or have any of your ancestors, shown above normal ESP ratings?"

"…. What?" Jim planted his hands on his hips, trying to figure out what in the world his First Officer was getting at. "You know damn well my ESP is nearly non-existent. What in the world brought on a question like that?"

Spock didn't answer, merely gave him a peculiar look. Jim couldn't help but think of how Dream Spock refused to answer the question about his name.

"Captain…" and yes, Spock's gaze had definitely softened. "Would you please follow me?"

After a very brief debate – because honestly, was there anywhere he wouldn't follow Spock? – Jim nodded his head and stood back, allowing his First to lead the way.

Five minutes later they arrived outside Spock's guest quarters, directly across from Jim's. Leading the way inside, Spock immediately headed over to a chest at the foot of his bed. Jim noticed that these quarters were near identical to his own: the canopied bed, carpeted flooring, and a softly lit atmosphere that was traditional of the Tilonian species. To Jim's right was the door leading into the sitting room and to his left was what was probably the bathroom. The only difference between his First Officer's rooms and his own was that Spock's were a whole lot neater.

True to his organized nature, Spock opened the chest and immediately found what he was looking for. Turning back towards his captain, he now clutched a small brown parcel to his chest.

"Captain," he began "the induction of the Tilonians into the Federation is a great accomplishment, worthy certainly of acknowledgment and praise. However, were you aware that this will be the twentieth species you have secured negotiations with since the start of your captaincy?"

Slowly Jim shook his head. Had he really accomplished that much already? Even with all the failed first contacts, the disastrous away missions, and the agreements that eventually turned sour, twenty was still a remarkable number.

He knew he wouldn't have achieved any of it without the man in front of him.

Spock nodded and his eyes smiled, as if he knew exactly what was going through Jim's head. "I thought," he said, suddenly looking shy "that such an achievement deserved recognition."

He handed the parcel to Jim and as he did their fingers brushed.

"I had planned to give this to you once the negotiations had been completed. However," and there was that peculiar look again, "I believe you should receive it now in light of the… fascinating circumstances."

Removing the wrapping with infinite care, Jim then felt a sudden rush of air into his lungs. There, cradled gently in his hands, was the book from his dream. The black cover. The ivory piping. The swirls and dips and loops that suddenly made him feel faint. Everything was exactly the same.

Glancing up he found Spock gazing at him, not looking nearly surprised enough for his liking.

"Where in the hell did this come from?" Jim demanded.

Both eyebrows shot up. "Why, from an antique store on Starbase 5, Captain. Where else do you believe I would obtain such an object?"

Slumping suddenly as if his strings had been cut, Jim settled into the nearest chair and watched as his friend did the same. "I don't know, Spock." He ran his fingers over the raised spine and suddenly a thought occurred to him. "Spock… this book isn't… well, that is to say, you didn't…" he stopped, feeling ten times a fool. "It's not… magic… is it?"

Spock actually allowed himself to look affronted. "Certainly not, Captain."

"Heh," Jim said. "Oh course, of course. But then what…" For the first time Jim noticed that there was no title on the outside. Instead, he opened to the cover page and for the second time in as many minutes felt himself gasp.

"Oh, Spock…"

There, written in calligraphy were the words:

A Tale of Two Cities

It wasn't hard to figure out why Spock had chosen this book as a gift. Jim had only spent about half of his off duty hours mourning the fact that he couldn't find a decent copy of the old Dickens novel. And now, here, was the most beautiful book he had ever seen. That it was also one of his favorites only made it that much better. That Spock had obviously searched high and low for this was humbling at the very least, and certainly the cost…

"I don't know what to say." Jim said, and he truly didn't.

"I believe you have just said something."

Jim laughed, and just like that the mood was broken. However, with an adrenaline rush that made him daring, Jim crossed to where Spock was sitting, knelt before him, and gently took him in his arms.

That Spock only stiffened for a moment before melting against him was truly a wonder. First contacts and negotiations be damned, this was his greatest accomplishment.

"Thank you, my friend." He said.

"You are most welcome, Jim"

They sat there for a long while, just holding one another. Later there would be time to marvel over such a coincidence; that a book Spock gave him in a dream could somehow be the book he was given in reality too. They would tell the story to Bones who would claim to be a doctor, not a psychic, and Jim would promise them both that he'd get his ESP levels re-evaluated.

They would laugh about this moment. But that was for later.

Right now all Jim thought about was how perfectly Spock fit against him. How his hands buried deep in his shirt and how he almost seemed to be nuzzling his neck.

Jim noticed all these things and allowed himself to hope.

***

Kirk sat on the very edge of the beach, allowing the ocean to gently lap at his legs. He enjoyed the feel of the water, the cool, crisp, foamy texture of it. Despite only being dressed in white cotton pants he still felt the heat acutely. It was a hot night and Kirk wasn't surprised that he was a bit uncomfortable. Still, it could be worse.

Leaning back on his hands Kirk looked up at the sky. He had nowhere to go, and nothing to find. He was happy to spend the rest of the night just looking at the stars.

Fate, however, seemed to have other plans.

One minute he was alone and the next a Vulcan was standing beside him. Even in the dim light Kirk could tell his species by the recognizable eyebrows and pointed ears. He wondered vaguely what a desert dweller was doing here, so near the water.

The Vulcan cocked his head to one side. "May I join you?" he asked.

"Of course." He hadn't realized it before but now that it was offered to him Kirk found himself craving the company.

The Vulcan settled in beside him, so close that their arms and legs brushed. Without any warning he shifted slightly until he sat at an angle, lightly resting his head on Kirk's shoulder. He didn't seem inclined to move and Kirk felt no immediate need to make him.

"Would you think terribly of me if I made an illogical statement?" his companion asked.

"Not at all."

"You make an extraordinary pillow."

Kirk laughed and, caught unaware at how easily he did so, suddenly realized what had been bugging him about this stranger. He was no stranger at all.

"Your name is Spock." He said.

"Indeed."

Humming a note of approval Kirk put his arms around Spock, no longer afraid to touch. They just sat like that, rocking gently and enjoying the feel of the sand and the sea.

Kirk wasn't quite so hot anymore.

A long time passed before Spock spoke again. "T'hy'la, what do you know of the Vulcan language?"

"T'hy'la?" Kirk's brow furrowed. "What's that mean?"

Spock chose not to answer. "I asked you a question first."

"… Well, not much really." Kirk gave as much of a shrug as he could without dislodging his friend. "Why do you ask?"

"At the risk of sounding conceited it is a fascinating language." Spock went on, again ignoring Kirk's question. "The Federation has done a remarkable job of translating it into standard however, they chose to remove one important cultural aspect, mostly because it would cause too much confusion."

As if it were the most natural thing in the world Spock picked up his hand, entwining their fingers and gently cupping his palm.

"You see," he continued, "Since the time of Surak, Vulcans have developed a great sense of community. It is only logical, after all, to give aid and seek aid when it is most needed."

Kirk nodded his head, showing he understood.

"One consequence of this cultural development was the belief that no one Vulcan truly owned anything. Each object, commodity, bit of land, and yes, even people, were seen as something belonging to the community at large; not one Vulcan's personal possession. Over time, our language too began to reflect this. Our verbs lost all implications of ownership and instead took on a questioning quality. Most of the Vulcan language now revolves around the verb 'to borrow.' May I borrow this, and may I borrow that?"

Spock sat up then, taking Kirk's other hand in his own. He faced him fully on the beach, gazing at him with a kind of devotion Kirk didn't know how to deal with.

"For example, if I were to say nash-veh aitlu meskarau t'du el'ru, the standard translation would be 'I want to hold your hand." Both men looked down at their entwined fingers. "However," Spock continued, "a more precise translation would be 'I want to borrow your permission to hold your hand.' Just because someone says 'yes' in this moment does not mean they will do so again in the future. The Vulcan language makes sure we do not even assume ownership of someone's continued acceptance."

Leaning forward Spock asked right in Kirk's ear: "Do you know the only Vulcan word that still implies possession?"

Kirk had a pretty good idea. "T'hy'la?"

"Indeed." Spock breathed.

"So," Kirk suddenly found it difficult to break eye contact, Spock's face was so very close. "If I wanted to – hypothetically – ask for a kiss, I'd literally be asking to borrow it?"

"Yes." Spock said.

"May I borrow a kiss?

Spock had the gall to smirk at him. "You have been borrowing one for the past three minutes and twenty-seven seconds." He looked pointedly down at their hands.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Can I borrow a human kiss?"

With a breath that just may have been a chuckle Spock said, "Yes"

And Jim woke up.

***

"God dammit!"

He didn't even bother waiting for morning this time. Grabbing a robe Jim proceeded out his door and over to Spock's room. Thirty seconds after waking up Jim was in his First Officer's bed, pounding him with a pillow.

"Rise and shine! We need to have a talk!"

It had to be a testament to that Vulcan control that Jim wasn't immediately hurled out of the room, or off the planet for that matter. However, even Spock's training couldn't hide the peeved expression that crossed his face after being woken up in such a rude fashion.

"Captain, for what purpose are you beating me with that cushion?" he asked.

Jim ignored him. Instead, grabbing his Vulcan by the collar of his shirt he leaned in real close.

"I'm going to ask a few questions okay? And what bed I end up sleeping in is going to depend on your answers. Got it?"

Spock seemed momentarily startled about the whole bed thing, but he nodded readily enough. Jim took that as a good sign.

"Great, first question: does the Vulcan language revolve around the word 'to borrow'? Jim said.

Spock looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "I do not understand the question."

"Fine, that pretty much answers the question. Weird ass dreams again, forget I mentioned it." Jim stopped to take a breath. "Question two: what the hell does T'hy'la mean?"

For a moment Jim thought his First might faint his face lost so much color. After a moment however he steadied himself and instead started blushing a violent green.

"We really must have your ESP levels checked…" he muttered.

"Spock, focus, we can worry about this shit later. Right now I really don't care about the 'how' of the matter, I just want to know what the matter is. What. Does. T'hy'la. Mean?"

Spock looked him right in the eye and said, "friend."

"Is that all?" Jim asked, oddly disappointed.

"…No." Jim suddenly recalled the rumor that Vulcans couldn't lie. Not that it really mattered either way. What was important was that this particular Vulcan couldn't lie to him.

Smoothing out the wrinkles he'd caused in his shirt, Jim gently took Spock by the shoulders.

"What does it mean?" He asked.

No one could ever say that Spock was a coward. Straightening his spine he said "Friend, brother, and…" He gulped. The last part was no more than a whisper. "Lover."

"Oh thank god."

Spock found himself crushed against one incredibly happy human. The waves of pure glee, contentment, and satisfaction poured into his mind like a faucet that had suddenly been opened. The bombardment of emotions was essentially an attack on his mind, and Spock cherished every moment of it.

Just as quickly as he was grabbed however, he was pushed back. Jim looked at him from arm's length away with the biggest grin he had ever seen. Spock had previously been unaware that the human lips and jaw allowed for such expansion.

"One last question for you, T'hy'la" Spock shivered at that word coming from this human's mouth. "Can I kiss you?"

There was only one answer. "Yes" Spock said.

And his communicator chirped.

For a moment neither of them moved, and then both simultaneously turned towards the device, sitting so innocuously on the bedside table. It chirped again.

"Oh hell to the no." Jim threw a glace at his soon-to-be lover. "You are not answering that." A raised eyebrow was his only response.

Years later, Spock would firmly deny that he ever did anything so illogical as wrestle for a communicator. Vulcan strength did however, have its uses.

"Spock here." With only one hand free Spock tried to silence his human's colorful language with another pillow.

"Commander Spock, this is Lieutenant Uhura. I've just gotten word that the Tilonian ambassador has fallen ill. I tried to inform Captain Kirk but have so far received no response. He doesn't seem to be answering his communicator, Sir."

Spock's gaze slid to the side where his captain lay half on and half off the bed. He looked illogically cute when he was pouting. "Yes, Lieutenant. That would be because the captain is with me."

A brief pause was the only indication that Uhura may have found it strange that her two senior officers were together at all hours of the night. "Understood, Sir. The head physician, Dr. Ahcha, wishes to speak to you regarding the ambassador's condition."

"I'm giving that girl a raise… I can do that right? Of course I can, I'm the captain! The only thing the captain can't do apparently is get it on with his First Officer. I mean really, is that so much to ask?" Spock ignored his T'hy'la's mutterings.

"Message received and understood, Lieutenant." He said. "The captain and I are on our way."

After a night spent in the local hospital they learned that the ambassador had collapsed after a violent allergic reaction – something that Jim could sympathize with. However, due to his weakened condition, both parties wanted to get the negotiations over with as quickly as possible. Schedules were rearranged and the bridge crew spent the rest of the next day finalizing agreements. It wasn't until Jim made it back to his room that he heard from Scotty that Spock had gone off with the Tilonian scientists, providing some last minute help and knowledge before the Enterprise shipped out the next morning.

Jim climbed into his bed alone that night but took comfort in the fact that he and Spock would sort things out tomorrow.

Less than five minutes after his head hit the pillow, Jim was asleep.

***

Jim opened his eyes to a void of white. Tangible, shifting, endless white, surrounding him like some sort of mist. Or perhaps more like a cocoon. Either way, after taking a moment to collect himself, Jim decided that he found it quite agreeable. The whiteness was cooling against his bare skin. The temperature was perfect.

Looking up Jim suddenly realized there was something in the distance that hadn't been there a moment before. It seemed far away, but after having taken no more than two steps Jim was right beside it.

It was a small, thin brush and a bucket of blue paint. How odd.

Just as he was reaching to touch the objects a hand shot out to take his wrist.

It was Spock, and he too was naked.

"Allow me, T'hy'la." He said.

Before Jim could begin formulating a response Spock was kneeling, taking up the brush and dipping it into the vibrantly blue paint. Turning Jim so that he was facing away from him, Spock began drawing on his exposed back. The first caress of the brush was cooler than Jim expected, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. Spock didn't seem to notice. He simply continued with his task, applying the same level of concentration to painting Jim's back as he did everything else.

Jim loosened his shoulders, allowing himself to merely stand and be cared for.

For a long while they continued like that, the soft bristles of the brush stroking his skin. Periodically Spock would dip to gather more paint, but other than those few moments his attention never strayed from his T'hy'la.

Jim felt his body relaxing, all his muscles slowly turning to liquid under that brush and those powerful hands. A part of him vaguely wondered what Spock was drawing, but he was simply too comfortable to care. Spock would tell him later when he was finished.

For now Jim allowed himself to relax, swaying slightly on his feet. Feeling completely content he closed his eyes…

… And awoke to someone's fingers lightly tracing designs on his back. Looking up, he met the eyes of his First Officer.

"Greetings, T'hy'la." Spock seemed almost ridiculously pleased. He was damn near smiling.

"Hey there." Jim allowed his head to drop back onto the pillow. "Um… not that I'm complaining about this arrangement but how did I get here?"

Spock continued drawing his fingers up and down his back. "I believe you were sleep walking. I myself had just fallen asleep after returning from the Tilonian labs when I awoke to you crawling into my bed. You have been here for approximately twenty-two minutes and eighteen seconds."

"Oh." Jim wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. "Aaaaand you're okay with this?"

"Indeed."

That single word was all the assurance Jim needed and he let loose a grin. It brightened the whole room.

Snuggling closer to his new bedmate he couldn't help but snort at the absurdity of the situation. "Really Spock," he said, "after all the crazy dreams I've been having sleep walking seems pretty damn normal."

"Did you have any more prophetic dreams, T'hy'la?" Spock asked, all too innocently.

Jim gave his snarky Vulcan a quick punch on the arm. He was too comfortable to do much else. "No, nothing like that. That book thing was weird. Hell, all these dreams have been weird! First you're telling me this really old myth about a sun and a bird, then we're hunting for this book that constantly creates new stories, then my crazy dream-self is asking to borrow a kiss and-" Jim suddenly stopped, his eyes going wide. He began mouthing through what he'd just said.

"Jim?" Spock asked, concerned.

"Oh my god." Without warning Jim threw himself under the pillows, trying to bury himself alive.

"Jim!" Spock attempted to dislodge his T'hy'la but Jim was having none of it. When he'd finally managed to remove enough pillows to hear him properly he caught the end of Jim's muttered rant:

"—paint! Blue paint! God dammit I told you before this whole mess even started that I wasn't some damsel in distress. I'm a starship captain! I do not get carried off into sunsets! Of all the nauseating-"

Jim was forced to stop by a hot Vulcan hand covering is mouth.

"You will explain yourself."

Removing the hand Jim sighed dramatically and looked up with his patented woe-is-me expression. "Spock, my subconscious has got a warped sense of humor." And then in more of a sing-song voice Jim recited, "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue."

Spock merely raised his eyebrow. "You are referring to the old Earth poem on matrimony?"

Suddenly looking shy Jim did his best to give a rueful grin. "Yeah, apparently my dreams want me to get married." He scowled. "And they want me to be the bride."

With something that looked suspiciously like a smile tugging at his lips, Spock took his T'hy'la into his arms. Wasting not another moment he leaned in for a kiss, thrilled when Jim returned it in kind. Later, when their heart rates were up and their skin was flushed pink and green, Spock pulled away.

"Then perhaps," he said, leaning in close for another kiss "your dreams are prophetic after all."


End file.
